


Saddle Up, Cowboy!

by TheVagabondBoy



Series: Renaissance Man [5]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - GTA, Crew as Family, Death Threats, Fake AH Crew, Funhaus - Freeform, Funhaus as a Crew, Heist, Heist gone wrong, Horses, Minor Funhaus bashing, Teargas, Threats, Threats of Violence, but lbh they kinda are assholes in this one, but no one else is mentioned by name, cowboy, everyone else is there too, not really but its what i NEEDED, or speaks, so im keeping it simple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 11:21:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9121300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheVagabondBoy/pseuds/TheVagabondBoy
Summary: By now, the Crew had definitively realized there was more to Ryan than met the eye.But this one, was perhaps the most surprising of his secret talents.Yes, even more than the rubber band thing.





	

Okay, which asshole decided they were teaming up with those Funhaus douchebags on this one?

This was the topic of debate as the Fakes burst out of the Fleeca Bank, guns blazing.

“There’s literally _zero_ chance we will _ever_ work with Funhaus again! _Ever!_ ” Geoff screamed, sliding into cover behind the closest car on the curb.

Those assholes were supposed to _help_ and get a fair cut of the profits. Instead, Bruce clocked Michael, grabbed the second bag of cash, and the whole lot of them were out the door, effectively leaving the Fakes to take the fall. They were both small crews, with even smaller inner circles that would be trusted on a job like this. That was _the whole fucking reason_ they were doing this together! If they did it alone, it was doomed to fail; trust the Fakes on that, they had tried it before. But if they did it together, each crew would get a cool million and a half to divide amongst their own.

Now, though, Funhaus had three million. _And_ they were getting away.

Ryan wasn’t very worried, though.

The city had implemented a riding corps last month, because God knows that was a _great_ fucking idea. Still, he had scoped their routes beforehand, just to be safe, and-

A horse neighed over the sound of gunfire.

 _There_ it was!

“Cover me!” Ryan shouted.

 _“What?!”_ the whole crew responded over the comms.

But Ryan was already out of cover, so they had no choice but to keep shooting at both the cops and the car Funhaus was trying to get away in. Thankfully, traffic was _a little_ blocked up at the moment so their progress was slower than expected.

Ryan made a b-line right towards the cop and the horse. They were just behind a line of cops, who were just on their feet, so Ryan sprayed at the line to clear them out. They scattered like roaches but the horse lost its mind. It reared up, screaming in terror. Ryan raised his machine gun and just _unloaded_ into the cop. He didn’t have time to be kind. Funhaus was screwing him over, they were screwing his family over, they had betrayed the fragile trust of the Fakes. There would be no mercy for them.

The black horse came down on all four again, but not before the dead rider fell from the saddle. It had to have been trained not to run from gunfire. Ryan hoped it was so. He hoped it was still so.

When it simply stepped around there, shifting nervously, he breathed a short sigh of relief. He threw the strap of his gun over his shoulder as he grabbed the reins. He shoved his right foot into the stirrup and climbed into the saddle in no time at all. He kicked his heels, pulled the reins, and set of as fast as his horse could carry him.

It was…a sight no one had _ever_ expected to see, because…it was _ridiculous!_ Absolutely ridiculous! Laughable! The Fakes were frozen in shock for a moment, as he tore past them shouting at his new companion.

The Funhaus crew was just about to get clear of the block up. Ryan had to get to them. _He had to._ He got a hold of his machine gun, raising it as he kicked his heels again and again. He couldn’t slow down now. He got a few shots off. The back windshield shattered. Ryan let go of his gun, glad it still hung over his shoulder, then got a teargas grenade out of his pocket. It was a distraction plan he was glad Geoff had forced upon him.

 _Fuck!_ He was _just_ out of reach! He didn’t want to throw it too far. He was too unsteady on the back of that horse. If he missed, it would just bounce off the car and fly right back at him. He _had_ to get closer. Ryan begged and pleaded at the horse. He sweet talked it to the best of his ability. He kicked his heels, snapped her with the reins. She made a noise of dislike and discomfort at it, but ran faster, as if she could outrun the pain. Ryan hated, _hated_ to hurt such a beautiful animal like that. He really did, but this…what Funhaus did? It was something he could not let go unpunished.

She came up just beside the black car. The Funhaus guys were scrambling for their weapons. Ryan pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade through the broken window. The car swerved as it went off. Tires screamed. Ryan fought to get his horse to slow down, or at least get out of the way of the crashing car. She skid to a stop, Ryan clung to her. He watched the Funhaus car swerve into an almost perfect donut, before going head first into a streetlight. The pole folded under the car. The horn honked continuously from where the driver lay over the steering wheel. The doors were flung open. Whomever was left conscious after the crash crawled and fell their way out.

_Bruce._

Ryan clicked his tongue. The horse got moving again, trotting over towards the wreck. The rider dismounted there, standing beside the Funhaus boss. Bruce’s face was red and irritated, eyes running and breaths wheezing.

There wasn’t much time. The cops had apparently shaken off the shock. They were coming right towards the wreckage.

Ryan looked down at Bruce, in every sense of it. He planted his foot, softly, on the boss’ chest and shifted a small portion of his weight to it. Bruce wheezed and coughed, eyes almost visibly swelling of irritation.

“If you lay a finger on my people again…” Ryan threatened. “-I intend to replicate every evil deed I have ever done, every shred of misery and pain I have ever caused, on _you_. And then your people. Then, I will find every single person you have ever so much as _looked at_ , and do the same to them. Do you understand me, Bruce?”

The man’s eyes would have been wide, had they not been overflowing with tears. But he nodded shakily.

“I’m glad we understand each other, Bruce.” Ryan said, smiling to himself under his mask.

Ryan stepped off him.

He shielded his mouth and nose as best he could with his jacket. Some of the gas had already hit him. He could feel it working on him. His eyes were irritated and itchy, breathing made his lungs ache. He dove into the smoke, though. Two black duffle bags, filled to the brim with three million dollars, is what he emerged with.

He got one onto his back, before saddling up again and clutched the other tightly in one hand as he kicked his heels once more.

*

The worst of the effects were gone by then. Ryan had washed his eyes out about…a million times, was it? He supposed it felt as good as it was going to for the night. He had tried to clean out both mouth and nose too, but those were a little harder.

Things just had to settle for the night, and he could have Caleb look him over tomorrow. He probably had some stuff that could help. Maybe something for Ryan’s breathing too. Ryan was holed up, alone, at a safe house at the edge of the city. After his somewhat…ostentatious exit, he, and everyone else, agreed it would be best if he lost the cops on his own then joined up again after a nights rest.

“How the fuck d’you even know how to ride?” Geoff asked over the phone.

There were some murmuring voices in the backround since Geoff had him on speaker.

“Grew up on a farm.” Ryan said, voice raspy from the gas’ irritation. “Raised horses. Ridin’ since I was a baby.”

Silence.

Oh, yeah, he had never really told anyone where he grew up, right? Or, you know, _anything_ from before he became the Vagabond?

“A farm where?” Jack piped up curiously.

“Georgia.” Ryan said. “See ya tomorrow.”

**Author's Note:**

> I am legit sry abt this one, I just had htis obscene need for a cowboy-esque Ryan  
> Im a little dry on ideas after this, but if you have anything fun in mind, drop a comment and maybe Ill do something with it


End file.
